


The Snow is Falling (And Me With It)

by AnastenLights



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, I fucking cried writing this why did i write this, M/M, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnastenLights/pseuds/AnastenLights
Summary: Simmons is too late.It's a very long way to fall.





	The Snow is Falling (And Me With It)

**Author's Note:**

> For the Bad Things Happen Bingo- Cradling Someone in Their Arms

_ Cold. _

_ Everything was cold. So cold. _

Either the fall had killed him and this was just Grif’s own personal version of hell, or he was pretty damn close to finding out what the afterlife looked like. He could still hear Simmons’ voice ringing in his ears, the maroon soldier screaming as he scrambled over to the edge of the cliff only moments too late to prevent his friend from falling.

Down, down, deeper into the abyss that was the mountainside. 

Grif remembered being amazed at being able to fall for so long without hitting anything, then cursing his misfortune when he finally  _ did  _ hit something- a rock jutting out of the cliffside. Hard enough to cause a sharp grunt of pain as he hit the solid stone but soft enough that it broke instantly upon impact. 

He remembered landing, and how he had slid down the mountainside, until finally crashing through the branches of a fallen tree. 

The snow had momentarily dulled the pain but now…  _ now  _ Grif was acutely aware of every damn bruise, every broken bone, everything just-  _ hurt _ . 

It was then that he noticed the blood.  _ His  _ blood.

Grif passed out not too long after- he’d never been great with seeing blood, especially his own, or the thought of it no longer being inside him where it belonged. 

When he awoke next, hours later and much weaker than he’d been before, the sky had darkened into a warm sunset and was rapidly fading into the darkness of nightfall.    
  
Grif put out an arm, attempting to prop himself up but ending in failure. Unable to stand the added pressure, the arm buckled under his weight accompanied by a sudden jolt of new pain.

_ ‘So is this how it ends?’  _ He wondered. ‘ _ Alone and bleeding on the edge of a mountainside, my loved ones not even knowing that I love them? Fuck that.’  _

There was no doubt in Grif’s mind he would die here- that much he was sure of. He didn’t know the extent of his injuries, but from the amount of pain and blood-stained snow surrounding him, as well as a chunk of armor lying a good distance away, it couldn’t be good.

“Voice log-” He said weakly. His throat burned - _ everything  _ hurt, and he hated using one of the new updates Wash had insisted they add to their armor, but this needed to be done. “This is Dexter Grif, and-” he coughed, noticing new red splattering onto the snow as he did. “-and I can’t believe I’m actually using one of Wash’s fucking freelancer gadgets, but… I really don’t think I’ll make it out of this…” 

His vision had begun to cloud, and with the combination of the cold and blood loss, it was getting increasingly difficult to focus.

Between the ever-increasing bouts of coughing, Grif continued the message. “Not that any of this matters.” He said somewhat bitterly, “I’m just the team screw-up, the one everyone got a kick out of making fun of… but- but it seemed to bring everyone together. Somehow. Which I suppose is what should be important in the end.”

He went on, trying to carefully think of what to say next. “Simmons, there’s a letter under my bed I want you to read- ALONE for fuck’s sake,  _ please  _ don’t let Sarge or- GOD NO - _ Donut _ know what I wrote. Just- just read it ok? I- I hope you’re all able to get along without me. Guess you’ll need to find someone else to be the hate glue to hold the team in one piece…”

A weak laugh quickly turned into violent coughing, much worse than before.

It was so cold.

_ So fucking cold.  _

Maybe a nap would be good, just a little rest. Just a quick one. While he waited for… 

_ ‘What was I waiting for?’  _ Grif couldn’t remember. Waiting for… something.  _ ‘Guess it wasn’t important…’  _

He could hear someone- Simmons? -shouting his name, just as he shut his eyes and embraced the void.

* * *

_ “GRIF! _ ”

Simmons  _ screamed  _ the name, sprinting over to where he had seen traces of blood-  _ Grif’s blood _ . 

He found his teammate on the ground, back against a fallen tree. He would have looked almost peaceful, lying there in the snow, if not for the mess of bloodstains that decorated the fallen snow on and around the orange soldier. 

Sarge was going to shout at him.  _ Wash  _ was certainly going to say something. Simmons didn’t care- he didn’t give a damn what the others would say about him deserting them to go after Grif. 

To hell with all of them anyway.

Grif was the only one who really mattered. He’d been there, with Simmons, for as long as he could remember. And now Grif was… gone. He was just-  _ gone.  _

There was no pulse; no other signs that would indicate signs of life. Nothing but the slow, constant beeping of the voice log- Grif must have had just enough time to record a message before he had passed.

Simmons thought bitterly back to earlier that day, when he’d berated Grif for taking more than his share of rations that morning. In hindsight it seemed like such a trivial thing.

He was still there when the others caught up, his arms wrapped around Grif, eyes red from the hot, messy tears that had begun streaming down his face. The wind had picked up, blowing snow carelessly in any direction, but Simmons hadn’t bothered to wipe up much of the snow that had landed on him. His hair was now more than damp, and water had begun to soak through the gaps in his armor.

Someone- it sounded like Wash, but it was hard to tell -said something about needing to take Grif’s body back so they could prepare him for a proper burial. Simmons just nodded numbly, watching the world spin around him as they carried Grif’s body away.

_ He’s really gone. He’s gone and I-  _

_ “ _ I never got to tell him I-” Simmons choked out the words. He barely noticed someone pat his shoulder, whispering words he assumed were meant to be comforting. He didn’t need comforting now. He needed-  _ he needed his friend back.  _

He allowed himself to be led to the Pelican, not bothering to focus on where they were going.

Grif had been by his side since he’d been in training and now… And now Simmons was all alone. How ironic. Surrounded by friends and teammates and yet Simmons had never felt more alone than he did at that moment.

He didn’t remember much of the next few days.

It was just a mess of missing Grif, crying more when he heard the message Grif had left.  _ Missing Grif,  _ thinking about how his closest friend had died thinking he was nothing more than a fucking mistake of a human who only managed to ruin whatever he touched.

_ ‘It’s not true!’  _ Simmons longed to tell him. 

He wanted to tell him he thought that Dexter Grif was the  _ most important  _ person on Red Team. Of the Reds & Blues. 

He wanted to tell Grif he was the  _ only one who mattered in the entire fucking universe.  _

But now- now Grif was…  _ gone.  _ He would never hear those words.

_ ‘And it’s all my fault’,  _ Simmons thought. ‘ _ All my fault…’ _

**Author's Note:**

> No one requested Grimmons angst, but I was writing this anyway and decided to count it for the Bad Things Happen bingo since it fit a few of the prompts on my card.  
> My tumblr is @magicalbluelightning if you want to send an ask & request anything off my bingo card! I'm more than willing to mix prompts for the same fic if you want that :)


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